


i wanna taste the way you smell

by originalblue



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Face-Sitting, Handcuffs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 23:13:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3267872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originalblue/pseuds/originalblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek really likes it when Braeden cuffs him to the bed and lets him eat her out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i wanna taste the way you smell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yellowis4happy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=yellowis4happy).



Mornings with Braeden always started nicely.

Derek woke up with a little bit of drool on the corner of his mouth and his left arm completely numb under Braeden's head. There was a quilt thrown over them both; it smelled a little like his laundry detergent, and very faintly like blood (just like pretty much every he owned), but mostly like what they'd been doing late last night and early this morning. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the memory.

She groaned a little when he moved, and her leg hooked more tightly over his. He took that as a sign that she wasn't quite ready to get up yet. Instead of waking her, he carefully extricated himself and went to make some coffee, breathing the deep clean smell of the grounds before adding the water. He'd always liked the smell of coffee. It soothed his nerves and cleared his head, and it always reminded him of school mornings with his parents and sisters.

A few months ago, he'd even taken Braeden to a fancy coffee shop and bet her twenty bucks he could pick out every flavor on the menu with his eyes closed – she'd socked him in the shoulder and informed him she didn't take bets she knew she'd lose. Then she'd kissed him on the cheek and ordered him a triple shot latte and some tea for herself, and he'd grinned at her all the way home.

He heard a groan from the bedroom, and looked up as Braeden walked downstairs, wearing one of his sweaters and her favorite pajama pants. She stretched, and he found his eyes drawn to the way the sweater hiked up. He swallowed, quickly looking back towards the mug in his hands.

Sometimes he felt so clumsy around her, like he was a teenager again, all uncontrolled impulses and sweating palms. She was definitely a make-your-palms-sweat kind of woman.

She looked up at him with sleepy eyes, and he saw a crease mark on her cheek that had definitely come from sleeping on his sleeve.

“Here's your coffee,” he murmured, and she took it gratefully, sipping deeply and making a pleased humming noise in the back of your throat.

“You always make such good coffee,” she remarked with a yawn, opening the fridge. “Is that some kind of super secret werewolf power you haven't told me about?”

He shrugged, pulling an apple out of the fruit bowl on the counter. “I can smell when it's been brewing long enough, and I know which beans are the best, so I never buy shitty coffee. So, yeah, it's kind of a secret werewolf superpower.”

She rolled her eyes at him, and he gave her a dopey grin as she poured herself some cereal. “I've got some work this morning,” she told him, and he sighed. Between the bounty hunting and the pro-bono werewolf protection stuff, she kept even weirder hours than him.

“Will you be out long?” he asked, trying desperately not to sound dejected.

She smiled up at him, brown eyes laughing. He never could fool her. “Only an hour or two, if things go well.” She reached up and raked her nails lightly against the back of his scalp, and he gave a shuddering breath at how nice it felt. “I'll be back soon,” she said with a chuckle, and he nodded, wishing he had something more eloquent to say.

He read the news on his laptop while she got dressed, and he watched out of the corner of his eye as she packed not one, not two, but _seven_ knives and three of her guns, not including the taser she always kept tucked in her boot. And this was a _light_ day. She'd left her shotgun behind, still in pieces on the table from where she'd been cleaning it last night.

He felt a little guilty about that. He shouldn't have distracted her while she was finishing up, but she'd smelled so good, gunpowder and sweat and the slight stickiness between her legs that was wired straight into his brain. He shouldn't have been so turned on by the sight of her cleaning and checking her guns in her underwear, face serious as she went over everything with her cleaning kit. But the arousal had punched him straight in the gut, a low heat that made him want to press her up against one of the brick walls of the loft and kiss her until she couldn't see straight. And after checking that she wasn't working on anything too important, that was exactly what he'd done.

After she left, he spent the next hour doing research and calling Scott to make sure everything was okay. When he'd confirmed that Beacon Hills wasn't about to be overrun by supernatural weirdness, he put on his headphones and walked over to their makeshift training area. He got a towel and put on his gloves, then picked up his weights, letting himself fall into the familiar motions. When he'd run through his daily routine, he switched to target practice, glad that the loft's thick walls muffled the sound of the gunshots. He didn't have any neighbors, but he'd prefer if no one asked awkward questions about the makeshift shooting range slash martial arts training center going on up here.

He didn't see the rest of the pack as much as he'd like to these days, mostly because Scott was trying to set up a peace treaty with a pack from up north that _really_ didn't like Derek. Apparently Peter had pissed them off so badly that they still remembered _twenty years later_ , and they'd permanently marked the Hales as enemies. Honestly, Derek wasn't surprised. When Scott had mentioned it, Derek had agreed that maybe it was best if he stayed out of the pack's way for a while, to let his scent fade from them and their meeting places.

It was nice, like a vacation almost. He got to stay at home and do some research and stare forlornly at his pile of books to read, which was doomed to remain eternally unfinished, and he got to learn how to function as a sort of normal person.

He'd even looked into buying patio furniture the other day. _Patio_ furniture. Because he had a _patio_. What was he, forty? It had been extremely surreal to call the Home Depot two cities over on a Wednesday morning and ask if they delivered to run-down warehouse lofts on the outskirts of Beacon Hills. Yes, that Beacon Hills. With all the murders. Yes, in the sketchy part of town. With all the murders.

Whenever he had to deal with delivery people, he was always tempted to fuck with them by flashing his eyes or teeth, but he'd long since learned his lesson. He wouldn't risk tipping off some hunter nutjob by scaring the shit out of some poor delivery kid making minimum wage. Nowadays he limited his scary faces to kids on Halloween and anyone who looked at Cora or Braeden wrong.

The sound of Braeden's SUV pulling into the parking garage brought him back to reality, and he was waiting by the door, still kind of sweaty and gross from working out, when she walked back in.

She took one look at him and reached back to throw the deadbolt.

She didn't even bother speaking, just grabbed him by the face and dragged him down until she could kiss him, slipping her tongue against his teeth and groaning. “You smell good,” she murmured into his mouth, and he growled out an agreement, because she had absolutely _no idea_ how good she smelled to him, _no_ idea. He wanted to taste her, wanted to feel her nails digging into his back, drawing blood. He let his mouth trail down the side of her neck, the way he knew she liked, and he kissed and licked at the scars across her throat. She smelled like she'd been using one of her guns, the Sig Sauer, but he couldn't smell any blood on her, so her work had gone well. He lifted her onto his hips, mouthing at her sternum through her thin shirt, feeling her thighs press into his hipbones.

“Bedroom,” she ordered gruffly, and he complied happily, carefully carrying her up the stairs. As he focused on kissing her and not tripping on the rusty steps, she pulled off her jacket and her shirt, unhooking her bra with one hand. He let one of his hands cup her breast, rolling his thumb over her nipple and swallowing her groan. He let them both fall onto the fresh sheets, and she rolled him over, knees pressed tight against his ribs. She looked down at him through her thick curtain of hair, eyes bright and heavily-lidded.

Fuck, _fuck,_ she smelled so good. He could smell how aroused she was, could almost taste it in the air, and he let out a strangled noise when she leaned down and gripped his throat with one strong hand. “Do you mind if I get out the handcuffs?” she muttered, and he shook his head silently, holding out his wrists so she could cuff him to the headboard. These were her special reinforced cuffs, the ones that usually got used on particularly irritable magical creatures and sometimes on her boyfriend when he'd been very good. They were icy against his wrists, but he didn't mind.

She didn't bother taking his shirt off, hiking it up around his arms instead. He shivered and squirmed as she leaned back and wriggled out of her jeans. Once they were off, he swallowed hard. He could smell her all around him, sinking into the sheets and into his pants, which were feeling uncomfortably tight. He could see how wet she was, could see the damp in her boy shorts, and fuck, he wanted to taste that.

“Can I eat you out?” he blurted, looking up at her. “Please?”

She gave a crooked grin and laughed. “Sure thing, sweetheart.” She dragged her underwear down the way she knew he liked, slow and smooth. He swallowed again. There were battle scars and stretchmarks that looked like lightning on her hips and stomach, leading down towards dark curls.

“You good?” she asked, hovering over his chest, and he nodded.

“Yeah, really _really_ good,” he said breathlessly, and he wished he could help lift her hips up to his mouth, but he couldn't move his arms from where they were bound to one of the bars at the headboard.

She moved her knees to frame his head, and he inhaled deeply, sighing at the sweet heady smell that swirled around him. “Please,” he almost whined, straining upwards, and she smiled down at him, a benevolent goddess about to reward a faithful follower.

He moaned thickly when she finally leaned down enough that he could taste her, his mouth pressing hot and hard against her clit. She bucked a little against him, but quickly stilled, her hands going up to grip the headboard in front of her. He gave her a few long, firm licks that made her hiss, and then she was relaxing, hips moving against his face. She tasted so good, so rich, so right against his mouth. He pulled away to breathe for a second and rubbed his face against her thighs, knowing she liked the stubble. She moaned, one of her hands going down to pinch at her nipples. Derek loved watching it, but he wanted to close his eyes and enjoy this for now. Her weight was comforting over him as he sucked and licked at her, pulling keening sounds out of her that he needed his werewolf hearing to fully appreciate.

When she grabbed at his hair and rocked forward, he knew she was close. He pressed his nose against her clit and used his tongue inside her as best he could. The angle was a little awkward, and he wished he could use his hands for this part; he loved having fingers inside of her when she came, pulsing and twitching around him. He twisted his tongue hard against her, sucking and lightly scraping at her with his teeth, and that was it, she was falling apart, legs shaking, head thrown back in a gasping snarl and hands gripped so tight her knuckles were white with effort. Just the sight and feeling of her coming made him jerk, dick twitching against his pants as he came so hard his vision went fuzzy. He panted, absently licking the last of the aftershocks out of her.

She rolled off of him as soon as she was done, sliding down until she was lying next to him. “Mmm,” she intoned lazily, kissing his shoulder. “We should do that again sometime.”

He looked over at her, still breathing hard, eyes unfocused, arms stinging pleasantly from being pressed back against the cuffs. “Yeah,” he replied, trying to find words. “Yeah, we should.”

 


End file.
